Given to crescent moon

Chaldean echoes of spectral gloom

Like a pen pal of the gods

No horns no reply

Flowers of sorcery

Like pearls before the swine

Defying space and time

Sez the pineal gland of mine

Like,

Given to dreaming witches´ lie

It´s sweet to close your weary eyes

Given to pentacles and more

Drunk with the blood of the whore

Gimme some Metatron

Damn my immortal soul

But show me something that I don´t know

Gimme some Metatron

Given to waning moon

Septuagint whispers of impending doom

Cautes and Cautopates

A shit load of bad ass deities

Wore out my shovel

Burying monsters where they popped up

And it´s OK

Doesn´t matter anyway

For Babalon above

For Babalon below

Gimme some Metatron